Denny and Scott were behind the long bar, serving up one-dollar beers and reduced-price booze. Avery had devised a contest over the course of the week, letting people vote on which shots should be featured. When our very own Penalty Shot concoction won (basically a double shot of chilled vodka poured over a frozen slice of sugared orange) she contacted Absolut about sending over some spokesmodels. They stood near the entrance and manned the ice luge at the square bar, posing for pictures and handing out promotional shot glasses all night.

She thought a hot dog cart would be a big hit (she was right), and suggested we serve some just-as-convenient sandwiches. Felix had made platter upon platter of gourmet wraps which were stacked three shelves deep in the walk-in fridge. Anytime anyone would notice a tray running low, all we had to do was grab a new one to replace it. With all the people crowding the place, it was the easiest fare to offer, but with Felix's special touch, one of the best tasting, too.

But the best idea Avery had the truest stroke of genius to lure in the most influential fish of this town... She spread the word everywhere that a huge portion of the night's proceeds were going to be donated to Norman's little league team.

Brilliant.

Norman's pee wees had made it all the way to the regionals before being eliminated, which was a pretty big frigging accomplishment. You couldn't go anywhere in this town without seeing the banners on the streetlights or the posters in the shop windows, and Avery thought it would soften The Westlake's image to be the most vocal supporters in town.

Everything from the free food, T-shirts, and shot glasses to the dart tournament and pool challenges advertised a sign requesting a donation be made to "our little winners," encouraging everyone to help the team with my father's favorite pronouncement that "We'll get 'em next time." She'd hung their picture all over the walls at every station and on a line of mason jars along the bar.

I took her cue and bolted a locked, wooden box to the wall of the pool room, and hung a posterboard sign stating: $1 DONATION REQUIRED TO PLAY. It was something my father used to do just to keep everyone from gambling. Too many fights erupted after too many drunks tried to "make it interesting."

He'd pick a different cause every month or so, and hand over whatever cash was brought in during their run. When people knew they had the option of donating a couple bucks to a worthy cause, they were less inclined to try to win some for themselves. Psychology. Go figure.

Dad would have loved that I was doing this. He was the one that taught me how to play pool in the first place. Kicked my ass so many times that I was forced to learn the game well enough to beat him. My father was never one of those guys that let his kids win to make them feel better. Every board game, every sport he made sure to give it his all. It's why my brothers and I excelled in our athletic endeavors: Because we loved that feeling of having truly earned the win.

I figured whatever money we brought in could go to the American Cancer Society in his honor, and as it turned out, I had to empty the box twice before the evening was through.

Friday night was packed, a smashing success.

But once the word spread, Saturday night was positively insane.

Chapter Eighteen.

When the clubhouse saw how effective it was to move the band outside, they decided to follow suit. We let them set their band up on our stage, figuring we could wait the extra day to break it down. It was just good business.

My bar was packed wall to wall with warm bodies, and it was almost impossible to get from one end of the room to the other. As I sliced my way through the crowd, I felt a hand clasp my shoulder and a familiar voice yelling over the noise. "Hey Maniac! What's the deal? I can't even get to my stool!" A good-natured Jerry Winters was standing with Roy Bread, Richie Rum-N-Coke, and The Incredible Hank.

I gave my regulars a round of handshakes and asked, "You guys having a good time?"

Hank shot back, "One dollar beers? You better believe it!"

The guys all laughed and toasted one another as I excused myself and made my way to the square bar. The shot girls were such a hit with my male patrons the night before that we asked them to come back and do it again. They readily agreed. And why wouldn't they? They'd made a shit-ton in tips.

The rest of my real drinkers were at the long bar. I went over to check out the action. "How's it going, Den?"

Denny looked about ready to pass out, but he was smiling, so I took that as a good sign. "Oh man. They haven't stopped! You may have to send Alice back here to help us out for a few."

"Not a chance. We're trying to bring in new customers, not drive them away."

With that, I hopped behind the bar to get my guys out of the weeds. The crowd was positively electric, and as nerve-wracking as it was to keep up with the drink orders, I understood why Denny still managed to have a smile on his face. Working a busy mob was grueling, but man, was it fun. I fell back into the natural rhythm of it all, crossing behind Scott and ducking under Denny, tossing a coaster on the bar here, scraping foam off a pint there. It was a choreographed dance that could only be carried out by three guys who were as familiar with the workings of a bar as they were with each other.

Wow, I missed this.

I missed the energy of a packed bar. I missed the raucous laughter, the booming sound of a crowd singing along with the band, the offensive smell of a cloud of cigarette smoke, the squish of my beer-soaked sneakers.

I. Love. This. Bar.

It was a welcome revelation, which was the main reason why I was smiling ear-to-ear as I looked up and saw Avery.

"You're happy!" she yelled at my sappy self.

"I am. And you're brilliant."

"I can't argue that."

We both laughed as I asked her, "What'll you have?"

"Loopy Seven. With a cherry."

I shook my head at her weird drink choice, but served it up to her anyway. On busy weekends, we bypassed actual glassware and just used plastic cups. They were safer, and with such a huge crowd, easier to clean up at the end of the night. We hadn't had to break out the cups in quite some time. "And if you even think about paying, I'll have you kicked out of here."

"I wouldn't dream of it. Thanks!" She raised her cup in a toast and turned to head back to the party. Something about watching her retreating form turned my insides cold.

"Avery! Wait!" I called out, jumping over the bar before I could lose her in the crowd. She stopped in a near-panic before she realized nothing was wrong. Well, nothing except the fact that I just didn't want her to leave. I turned back to Denny and asked, "Den? You guys got this?" He gave me an affirmative salute, so I reached behind the bar for a bottle of wine and two glasses before putting my hand at Avery's back and ushering her outside. I needed air.

"You scared me back there!" she said once we were finally outside.

"Sorry. I wanted to hit the beach and didn't want to go alone."

"We're going to the beach? Don't they close that off at night?"

"Like that's going to stop me?"

"Rebel."

We walked together around the side of my building, trying to shield our ears from the blasting sound of the band going at it on the stage. The lot was filled with people dancing, smoking, talking hundreds of Normanites gathered in and between the clubhouse and The Westlake. Avery's instincts had turned out to be right; the people of this town would accept my invitation and be drawn to check out my bar. All I needed to do was amp up the hype and open my doors.

If you build it, they will come.

We reached the chain-link fence that enclosed the beach. It was after hours, so sure enough, the gate was bolted shut. I handed the wine and glasses to Avery, then gripped my fingers through the chain link, giving it a good shake.

"What are you doing?"

"Testing to see how sturdy this old fence is. I haven't hopped it in a few years, and wanted to make sure it would hold."

"You expect me to hop that fence?"

"Don't be such a girl."

"Girls wear skirts, Zac!"

I looked over my shoulder at Avery, fidgeting in discomfort in her tiny, flouncy mini skirt. I gave her a wicked eyebrow wiggle, which I guarantee would've had her slugging me if her hands weren't otherwise occupied.

"I promise not to look. Scout's honor," I added, crossing two fingers over my heart then holding them up in a boy scout salute.

Avery snorted. "Oh, now I'm supposed to believe you were a boy scout? That's rich."

I ignored her as I pulled a nearby park bench over to the fence and hopped up. "Here. See? I'll go over first, you can hand me the stuff, then I'll turn my back while you climb over. It's not that high. You'll only need to figure out how to get over the top on your own; that's the hardest part. Then you can just drop down into the sand. No problem."

"Fine. But how are we supposed to get back out?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

She tightened her eyes into slits and glared at me.

"C'mon. You're gonna tell me you never climbed a fence before?"

"Not since I was about ten, and definitely not while wearing a skirt."

"Chicken."

"Dick."

I loved this new side to our relationship. It was as if all our fighting had suddenly turned amusing once we both decided to smile through our jabs. I shot her a final grin before grabbing the top of the fence, sticking the toe of my sneaker into the chain-link, then hoisting myself up and over to land in the sand.

"Perfect dismount!" I exclaimed once I was on the other side.

Avery was biting her lip as she passed the bottle and glasses over to me. She downed the rest of her Loopy Seven, ditched the cup into a nearby trashcan, then stood there for an extra second with her hands on her hips, assessing the situation.

"Come on," I said. "You can do this."

"Did you have to make it look so darn easy?"

"I make everything look easy."

She rolled her eyes then ordered me to turn around. I did, like the gentleman I am, even covering my face with my free hand for added insurance.

I heard the rattle of the chain link then the scream from Avery.

I lowered my hand, but didn't turn around. "You alright?"

"No! Ow!"

"Do you need my help?"

"No!" I heard the fence rattle again, along with her growl. "Oh God. I lied. I need help. But I swear, I'll kill you if you laugh."

I turned around to see Avery folded over the top of the fence, her hands in a death grip on the chain link, her skirt around her waist, her ass and legs dangling down the side.

You better believe I cracked right the hell up.

"Zac! It's not funny!"

I caught my breath and shot back, "It's extremely funny!"

"Shut up and get me down from here! My skirt is caught on the damned fence!"

I pulled myself together and went to play superhero. I tried my best to ignore the sight of Avery's little panties staring me in the face, and simply grabbed hold of her legs to lift her up. The slack allowed her to free a hand and unhook her skirt from the top of the fence, and I lowered her onto firmer ground. The first thing she did as her feet hit the sand was to smack me, and I cracked up, ducking for cover from her attack.

"You planned that!" she laughed out.

"How could I plan that? Hell, it worked out better than I could've ever hoped, but"

"Shut up!"

"Aww. C'mon, Ave. I hardly saw anything."

"Liar."

"I'm not lying, Stripey."

"Oh my God. Just kill me now."

"Why? It's not like it's anything I haven't seen before."

Her laughter stopped instantaneously, and that's when I realized what I'd just said. I gave a sheepish rub to the back of my hair and said, "I wasn't talking about you specifically."

She smoothed a hand over her sore midsection, not meeting my eyes when she said, "Just forget it."

I led her over to the strip of sand that separated my bar from the lake. At night, we could see everybody inside through the windows, but they couldn't see us. During the daytime, the opposite held true, but for now, I was grateful for the privacy. I pulled a couple towels from the covered cart and laid them out near the edge of the water so we could sit.

We got ourselves situated and I pulled out my keychain to crack open the bottle. I poured our wine and handed a glass to Avery, who smiled and clinked my own before taking a sip. "We lucked out with the weather, huh?"

I kinda liked hearing her refer to us as "we." We'd been quite the team over the past weeks, and we'd gotten along really well throughout all the planning. I was smiling as I took a swig from my glass and answered, "Yeah. It's perfect."

She met my eyes just then, and from the pink that was flushing her cheeks, I knew she was aware I was talking about more than just the weather. We'd shared a handful of private moments over the past weeks, and as much as I tried to keep things aboveboard, sometimes, I couldn't help myself.

"So, what's the deal with the lake?" she asked, trying to lighten the moment. "Why do they keep it under lock and key?"

"Well, they don't. Not for their members anyway."

"So, if you got a membership, you'd be allowed to use it?"

"Yes. But my family never bothered." I pointed to the deck off of my restaurant. "We always had our own beach access."

That made her chuckle as she nudged against my arm. "Wow. You really are a rebel, huh?"

"Without a cause, baby."

She cracked up at that as I stood and held out my hand. "You wanna take a walk on the wild side, Ave?"